End of The Line or The Beginning?
by FreckledWriter
Summary: What if "The Pickett Line" episode had ended differently? What if the Masons had been shot to death and Maggie was left to deal with everything by herself? Would she go back to Pope? What had she and Pope been through before? This fic explores that.


**End of the Line or Beginning Again?**

Author: Freckled Writer

Rating: Teen (15+)

Pairing: Maggie/Pope

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of Falling Skies.

Summary: What if "The Pickett Line" episode had ended differently? What if the Masons had been shot to death and Maggie was left to deal with everything by herself? Would she go back to Pope? What had she and Pope been through before? This fic explores that.

Note: I am a Maggie/Pope Shipper as much as a Maggie/Tom shipper because I know that the latter will never happen in the show.

* * *

She would never forget the way the sky looked that morning. Grey clouds swirling and a light mist coating everything in tears. The sky had begun to cry before anyone even knew. The owl flying out of the tree was an omen. She knew it was Tom and Matt's horses the minute they came down the hill. She just stood there, in the tent at the perimeter, watching them walk back to their corral. Their reins trailing in the mud because there were no strong hands to hold them.

Pope had become Weaver's Second in Command sometime that day. It had happened quickly before anyone could object, and after it was clear that Weaver trusted Pope, no one dared object out loud. Weaver had been tough enough to talk to, but with Pope by his side influencing his every thought, he was back to being quiet and demanding. When he wasn't yelling orders, that is.

"I got a list of sins 20 miles long but I call it the way I see it." He was always so damn sure of himself. She would have told him to shut up, except that often what John Pope said, came to pass. He was not a fool. He wasn't a coward either. He could see things unfolding that others couldn't see even after they had happened. No one doubted that he was smart, what they doubted where his intentions.

Maggie knew that while Pope seemed heartless and impulsive, he was actually very thoughtful. He had given Maggie a way out when his brother Billy became bored with her after two weeks of raping her. Billy had been the impulsive one and the one who was truly cruel. He was also the best shot of the group, which is why no one had questioned him, except for John. Being the older brother John Pope had been able to reason and command his younger brother Billy to an extent. He had convinced Billy that a female who could fit into tight places would be a good asset and so Billy and Cueball had finally left Maggie alone.

Eventually she earned their trust and they gave her a gun. She had thought about putting a bullet through Billy's head and shooting her way out, but there were always five of them in the room and she didn't know if she was _that_ good of a shot. Even then, the others would have heard the shots and came running and she would have never made it out of the building. She hadn't beat brain cancer just to be taken out by a bunch of thugs. Or crawling slimy aliens. She would go out on her own terms, and she would go out fighting, not crawling.

"At all costs we survive." Pope knew Maggie. He knew that she wanted to come out on top and be alive to see the last alien spaceship fleeing into space. Above all else they were Americans and no one or thing was going to tell them how to live in their country. That is what drove most of the people still alive in America. They had all known a strong sense of freedom from birth, and were prepared to fight for it, no matter whom or what dared to take it away.

'For old time's sake.' He had said. The good ol' times hadn't been that good, but they hadn't been that bad either. He had fed them well, and he had given her nice clothes and plenty of bullets to shoot at skitters. John had actually been the one that had shown her how to shoot. He had given her a small hand gun at first, then the crossbow, and finally he had showed her the correct way to load, aim, shoot and clean the automatic rifles. They had purposely walked back through a strip mall they had already gone through just so she could find clothes and shoes that fit.

John had begun making suggestions that she sleep with him in his bed the week that the Second Mass had shown up. She had almost resigned herself to being John's girlfriend when things went crazy. An army showed up, Billy was wounded and hostages taken. Then the Mason's had offered her a place in a real resistance, in a real army. She had gambled and it had paid off. She fit in easily and neatly with the soldiers of the Second Massachusetts. She had kept up with them and was a good shot; not the best, but good.

She was so grateful to Weaver and Anthony and all of the others like Tom Mason who had given her a second chance. Well, maybe it had been the 4th or 5th chance, but at any rate they had given her a new life. A life with decency and partners. She knew that as long as she fought with the 2nd Mass she would have someone on her six and food in her belly. That is why Pope had probably stayed near and had finally come back. There weren't many other groups out there. There certainly wasn't any group like the 2nd Mass. No matter what they went through, or who led them, Maggie would stay with them.

"There will come a time, sometime soon I suspect, when this little _pantomime_ of yours is all gonna come to an end. And when it does, you're gonna come _crawling back to me_." Pope's whisper still rang her in ears. It sounded through her head as loud and clear as the dinner bell.

Damn that man. He could read people. If Maggie didn't know better she'd swear he was clairvoyant. He had felt that the Masons were gone for good when they rode out that night. He had known they were seeing the boys for the last time. Maggie knew in her heart that Hal and Tom had _planned_ to come back. But something had happened. If it had been just Matt's horse that had come back, Maggie might have let herself believe he had lost it. For Tom and Matt's horses to both come back with no riders, everyone agreed something very bad had happened. Weaver had led a troupe of seven to retrieve The Masons but they had lost their trail and had found no evidence of what happened to them.

It had rained that entire week, almost as if the angels were crying for the Masons. Maggie had cried when she was able to be alone in a tent. She had slept with one of Matt's shirts for a week. They had taken most of their possessions with them when they left to get Anne and Alexis. Maggie wrapped up a pen that Tom had been fond of, in the shirt, and put it in her personal backpack. She had nothing of Hal's. No shirt, no picture, just the faint memory of the scruffy feel of his face when he kissed her. She could still remember the deep brown of his eyes from when he would cup her face and pull her close to have a serious talk with her. She remembered his chest because she had spent so many hours sleeping on it.

Hearing his heart beat through his shirt had reminded her that she had something to fight for. Ben's pain at being teased and his coping with the spikes on his back had fueled her fire on the cold nights that she had to be a sentry. Matt's willingness to fight and Tom's refusal to let him, reminded her that it was a privilege to be able to serve in what was left of the United States Army. Everyone who was able had to fight for those who were wounded and those who were gone. What was it Tom had said? They owed it to those who had died to live and fight well? Already the great commander's words were fading from her memory. Tom had been amazing as Commander in Chief and Weaver's 2nd in Command.

Now it was Pope's turn. He was a good humored man and so the majority of the people were lauding his suggestions and orders. He had already shown he was tough and reliable in Fitchburg. For the last month he had been proving he was a good and reliable leader. Maggie said nothing when people discussed John Pope. She had figured him out years ago. She had the realization that she had known the man for years hit her and that made her smile. When she had first met Pope she didn't think she would live for another 24 hours. Yet here they were three years down the line, fighting side by side. Life was funny.

A year ago she thought her and Hal would go through the rest of their lives side by side. She just assumed that someday they would get boxed in and finally take a bullet to the heart, or that a skitter would get the jump on them. She never dreamed Hal would ride off without her, leaving her to once again, rely on Pope.

She sighed as she walked on the sidewalk that still ran in front of the building that was Pope's bar. She paused at the door, knowing, that once she stepped through that door, there was no stepping back out. Margaret straightened her back, pulled her black jacket smooth over her grey v necked shirt, fixed her hair, and stepped over the thresh hold. There was music. A man strummed a guitar on stage while two women sat at his feet, obviously vying for his attention. He was playing some sad country song that Maggie didn't recognize.

Three card games were going on, with Tector winning at one table. He gave her a glance as she walked across the floor toward the bar where Lyle was cleaning some glasses. She didn't look at Tector and she didn't look at Pope who was at the very end of the bar talking to three men. He seemed to be in the middle of a serious conversation and for that she was glad. She wanted to get sat down, have a drink, and have Pope suddenly become aware of her presence; after she had drank her alcohol.

She sat down on a stool and Lyle walked over. "Nice to have you finally come in Maggie. What would you like?" Lyle was always nice so Maggie decided to be nice back.

"How about bourbon?" Lyle nodded and turned around to pour her a drink. Maggie sat still, not looking the rest of the way down the bar. She hoped the conversation he was having with the three men would last a while. It lasted about fifteen minutes, and Maggie downed the last of the sweet bourbon as Pope sauntered her way. She wasn't quite ready, but then she didn't think there was enough bourbon left in the world to make her ready for this conversation.

He was still on his side of the bar, so he leaned over, clasping his hands together and putting his elbows on the bar. His stringy brown hair framed his face as he leaned in to quietly say "Well, look what the cat drug in."

"I'm just here for a drink. Your bar seems to have all of the alcohol in this town, so I didn't really have a choice but to drink here."

"So you're just here to drink?" He face didn't hold any expression but the tone of his voice was mocking.

"That's why people come to bars." Maggie was trying so hard to sound casual, and thought she was succeeding.

"Oh people come to bars for several reasons, lastly to drink. It's much cheaper to drink at home and it's quieter. No people around to bother you. No, people come to bars to socialize." Pope drew out every word in the last sentence. At least he was being subtle about making his point. Maggie was not going to throw herself at him. He was going to have to come to her.

Maggie wasn't looking at him, she was playing with the glass in her hand. After a moment of silence he said "Would you like a refill?"

"Sure. What's it gonna cost me?" They were on the barter system and with Maggie being in the field most of the time she didn't have a lot to barter with.

"Well the first drink at my bar is always on the house. But you have to pay for the second. Most people offer a tube of toothpaste or a pint of strawberries..." his voice trailed off and he sat the drink down in front of her with a thud.

"What do you have to offer?" he looked her in the eye, but Maggie had been prepared for this insinuation.

"I have ink pens, a notebook with all blank pages, two pairs of men's gloves and a bottle of Tums. That is ALL I have to trade." Maggie looked up to stare Pope in the eyes and emphasis the word all. She was not going to prostitute herself to him or anyone else. Pope hesitated for a second and Maggie knew she had thrown him off.

"A bottle of Tums sounds good. If it's a full bottle you can have two drinks for it." He still leaned over the bar. Maggie took the bottle of tums out of her jacket pocket and sat it on the counter. Pope looked surprised.

"You don't have to pay tonight. Most people wait until I ask them for payment."

"I don't want to wait. I have the Tums now, I want the drink now. I don't want to hang on to these 'til you decide you want them. Take them now or I'll just leave."

Pope nodded. He picked up the Tums and stowed them under the bar. Maggie picked up her drink and took a sip. It was late in the evening, the three card games had been decided and most people had left the bar. Just a few of the regulars who had no intention of sleeping were still there. Maggie took another sip and waited.

"Well my shift's about over. I need some sack time before my next shift on the perimeter. You coming or not?"

He was trying to make it easy for her. Maggie realized that this was as romantic as Pope was going to get in public. So she downed her drink, stood up and nodded. Pope walked to the end of the bar, let himself out, grabbed his leather jacket and walked to the door. Maggie followed a step behind. They walked to the building next to the bar. Maggie had expected him to take her to the bus, but he surprised her by walking down the sidewalk and opening a door.

Then she internally laughed at herself for being surprised. Pope never did what was expected. He held the door for her so she could step inside. Then without saying a word he shut the door, turned and walked through what must be the living room of his house. It was dark but there was a large window and Maggie could see a desk, a coffee table and two upholstered chairs. Then a light came on from the next room.

John Pope was standing in the next doorway, which Maggie could see led to his bedroom as there was a huge bed with thick blankets in the room. She walked to the doorway surprised yet again. Where on earth had Pope found a California King Sized bed?

"Being the Pope of Popetown has its advantages." Pope spoke quietly. Maggie just shook her head and smiled. John turned sideways, took off his skitter necklace and watch and dropped them on a small dresser that was the only other piece of furniture in the room. He draped his leather Jacket over a skinny coat rack and turned back around to face Maggie. She handed her jacket to him which he put on the other side of the coat rack.

She stood in the doorway staring at the bed. The bourbon had given her courage but her nerves were still making her tremble. It had been a long time since she had crawled into bed with John Pope. She had tried to act like it had never happened. She had never admitted it to Hal, and everyone that knew it had happened was dead.

Suddenly Pope was standing in front of her and there was no time for reminiscing or regrets. There was no bar between them and no Mason that might walk around the corner and ask questions. He reached up and slowly tucked her hair behind her ear with his right hand. She stood there waiting for him to do more but he surprised her for the third time by saying

"You are going to have to make the first move. I'm not gonna do it."

Maggie swallowed hard. She had not expected this, but it made sense. Feeling a little awkward, but wanting to get things started she put her hands on John's shoulders and kissed him. She started to pull back but he quickly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her to his chest.

She started to panic but it quickly subsided. As John slid one hand to the small of her back and the other one to her chin she remembered what it was like to be in his embrace. For a man who was so rough and tumble his hands could be surprisingly gentle. She let herself relax as his hands reminded themselves where her curves were. He tilted her chin up and kissed the soft skin under her chin. Then he kissed the soft skin under her jaw. By the time he started kissing the side of her neck her knees were shaking. Not from fear, but from want.

She gasped and he worked his way down her neck to the top of her shirt. He stopped to grab the hem of her shirt, and after looking in her eyes for a moment he pulled it over her head and tossed it on top of his dresser. Maggie pulled his shirt off of him and started tugging on his belt buckle, trying to remember how it came undone. John picked her up and tossed her on the bed. She laughed, finally at ease with what was happening. It was not ideal, but then nothing about this life was.

As far as men went John was not the worst she could have ended up with. He was thoughtful, realistic and he would remain true to her as long as she remained true to him. He had told her that long ago and he had meant it. Their shoes were on the floor now and he had taken his belt off with his jeans. He was pulling her jeans off of her. She smiled at him feeling very comfortable on his big bed. He climbed on to the bed and on top of her. Maggie wrapped her arms around John's neck and gave him a long passionate kiss.

"It's good to see you back where you belong Maggie May."

Maggie smiled a wicked smile. "It's good to be back."


End file.
